


dis(trust).

by soliloqui



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: ASGZC, Angry Sex, Broken Bones, Cloud being a sad little chocobo, Feels, Fluff, Genesis whump, Hurt/Comfort, I just wanted to write some smut but it turned into feels and I'm sorry, Lemon, M/M, Multi, OT5, Sephiroth to the rescue, Swearing, character whump, hint at starvation, mentions of torture, so many feels, sorta happy ending tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soliloqui/pseuds/soliloqui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The first time he sees Genesis again is on the helipad, and if you didn’t know what to look for, you could almost think there’s nothing wrong.” In which trust is shattered, bent, returned. Because when Genesis Rhapsodos breaks, you can be sure he’ll do it right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dis(trust).

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting from my tumblr.
> 
> Somehow, smut happened.
> 
> Whoops.  
> (which actually is a first for me, but psshhh...)
> 
> Big thanks to Leah and Kassi for looking this over and encouraging me to post my first lemon ever xD

If he didn’t know what to look for, Sephiroth would never think to suspect there is something amiss.

The first time he sees Genesis again is on the helipad, where his vision is momentarily obscured by strands of silver hair, blown into his face by a heavy gust of wind. The redhead’s chin is held high, as usual, and even lacking the trademark red overcoat, clad in a regulation Soldier First uniform, he exudes an air of confidence and unquestionable authority. You could almost miss the slight limp in his gait from where Mako has caused his leg to heal wrong after being broken one too many times, or the unkempt, too-long style of his hair.

Only Sephiroth _does_ know what to look for. _Does_ know to search the other’s face with eyes like a hawk, to where he can’t overlook the slightly too pronounced cheekbones he usually likes to trail his fingers over in the dead of night, or the dark shadows beneath withdrawn, frigid blue orbs. The eyes of a haunted man.

Neither can Sephiroth dismiss the weeks’ worth of worry, anguish and concern inside his chest falling away at the sight of his lover returned to him, more or less hale and healthy; the weeks of fretting, weeks of snatching every mission available that would send him, or one of his other lovers, to Wutai where they would help in the search for their lost redhead after hastily completing their assignment.

One month, six days and fourteen hours since Sephiroth has last given his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek before sending him off on one of his frequent assignments to deal with some remnant rebel groups left over after the end of the Wutai War.

Three weeks, four days and twenty-two hours since they had lost radio contact with the Commander.

Six hours, thirteen minutes and forty-two seconds since Sephiroth received the message that Genesis had been found, injured but alive, in the depths of the Wutaian forest after fleeing from his captors, was receiving medical treatment in the closest military base and would be transported back to Midgar via Chopper within the hour, accompanied by Soldier First Class Zachary Fair, who had just been lucky enough to be on the continent at the time.

Not that Sephiroth was counting.

By now, Genesis has come to a halt in front of them, still too far away for Sephiroth’ liking, and regards them silently. Neither is quite sure what to say, and even the usually so calm, collected Angeal next to him seems at a loss for words in the given situation.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when the silence is broken by a squeal and an excited blond blur races past him to slam into Genesis full force. Cloud latches onto the stunned man with a vengeance, chattering away at a hundred miles a minute.

“—so glad you are back, we were _so_ worried, they wouldn’t tell us anything, no sign for _weeks_ —“

There is something flickering behind Genesis’ eyes, and for a moment he seems torn, but then he stiffens and resolutely pushes the cadet off of him with careful, but firm hands. Sephiroth knows the other pretends not to see the hurt in Cloud’s – hell, _all_ of their gazes as he marches past them.

Zack’s face is for once unreadable as he steps towards Cloud and lies a supporting hand on his shoulder.

…

It doesn’t surprise Sephiroth to find out Genesis’ leg will need to be re-broken in order to prevent lasting damage. However, it does baffle him (though it really should not, after what he just witnessed on the helipad), when Genesis adamantly tells them to leave him alone in the infirmary, and even forbids them from waiting for him outside the doors. He half-heartedly agrees to joining them all later for dinner at Angeal’s place, though.

Sephiroth knows the redhead needs to feel strong now, in control. He heard about Genesis snapping each of his captors’ necks upon his self-initiated escape and subsequent flight into the forest, where he survived on his own for almost two days in his injured state before being found. He saved himself under his own power and needs his boyfriends to acknowledge that he isn’t breakable.

The thought of his lover sitting alone in a cold infirmary while strangers break apart his bones isn’t made any easier by this.

…

Dinner is a quiet and awkward affair.

Neither knows quite how to deal with this cold, apathetic version of the person they thought they knew, and Sephiroth finds himself at a loss of how to tread on eggshells while making it seem as though he wasn’t; doesn’t know how to be there for Genesis when he doesn’t even know what it is he _needs_ right now. He’s never been good at reading people, and acting appropriately; and Genesis is making sure to hide every last bit of his emotions behind a mask.

Sure, almost all of them have seen Soldiers return from being tortured during the war, but never one of _them_. Never one of their little group of precious people. And they don’t know how to handle it.

It doesn’t take long until a well-meant, but ill-received comment sets Genesis off and the redhead storms out the door before anyone can protest. They continue in silence, but no one’s quite hungry anymore. Sephiroth hasn’t been in over three weeks, if he thinks about it.

The Silver General is ashamed of himself when it takes Zack standing up and walking around the table for him to realize Cloud is crying; fat drops of tears slide down his pale cheeks silently until he starts sobbing, gaze fixed somewhere on the wooden table top. Zack sits on the chair next to him, pulls the little chocobo over into his lap and holds him tight, joined after a moment by Angeal.

Sephiroth flees to do the dishes.

…

They all agree to give their hurt boyfriend some space for now, but tomorrow they will _talk_ , and if they have to hold down Genesis’ flailing, screaming form to do it, then by Shiva so be it. This isn’t healthy, and it’s not okay.

The four lovers decide to spend the night in their respective quarters just in case Genesis seeks them out during the night and doesn’t know which apartment to go to, with the exception of Cloud, who sneaks out after lights out to bunk down at Zack’s.

…

Sephiroth is about to settle down for the night when he hears the man enter his apartment.

He admits to sensing a brief flash of surprise. Angeal, he could have understood. It would have seemed logical to the General for Genesis to seek out the calmest, most reassuring of his lovers. Or the warm, affectionate handful of Cloud, or even the always optimistic Zack.

But maybe, Sephiroth thinks as they come face to face in the hallway before his bedroom door, maybe it’s something else the redhead needs tonight.

They regard each other silently for a moment. It’s dark, but Sephiroth’ Mako-enhanced eyes allow him to see the tense, rigid bowstring of Genesis’ body, the shuttered blue eyes glowing in the darkness, like a blind has been drawn to keep the world from looking into his skittish mind. The general decides he doesn’t like the notion.

Whatever Genesis was looking for, he seems to have found it, because in the next moment he grabs Sephiroth by the shirt and kisses him _hard_.

There’s nothing tender about it, it’s a clash of tongues and lips and teeth, and for a moment Sephiroth wants to take a step back; wants to frame Genesis’s face lovingly between his hands, whisper sweet words and give him the proper affection he deserves. But then he thinks – maybe this is what Genesis needs. To feel the harsh breath of another living being against his face, to feel firm hands all over his body, a reminder that he is _here_ and _now_.

He feels a brief prick of pain as Genesis’ hands, which have slipped through the open collar of his shirt, start scratching at his naked chest, followed by the heady onset of arousal Sephiroth isn’t sure whether to feel ashamed of or not.

The silver-haired Soldier thinks for a moment the other wants to domineer tonight, to prove he’s in control, to let out the frustration of being at another’s mercy for too long, but instead finds himself proven wrong when he is dragged into the bedroom by the front of his sleeping gear. As soon as the backs of Genesis’ knees hit the mattress, he lets himself fall on the bed, pulling Sephiroth on top of him and spreading his legs. The General settles between his knees as he is pulled down for another messy, heated kiss. His long, silver hair falls like a curtain around them and he can’t help but moan when the redhead arches into him, pressing their groins together. He feels Genesis’ arousal hot and heavy against his own thigh.

Whatever it is his lover needs tonight, Sephiroth vows to do his damnedest to provide.

Genesis’ hands wander hungrily over his chest in search for skin, before clutching and _ripping_ the button-up pajama top open carelessly, buttons flying every which way. Fingers start scratching at his toned stomach before falling away again; with a frustrated, desperate noise in the back of his throat Genesis instead grabs Sephiroth’ hands from where they were braced on each side of his head – he almost loses his balance – and forces them on his own torso, beneath his shirt, in a wordless plea for those appendages to start their own explorations.

Sephiroth obliges, pushing the black sleeveless knit-top up to Genesis shoulders, glad the other has thought to get rid of the complicated belt-system beforehand. He tries to ignore the way those ribs are too-prominent beneath the callouses of his thumbs, focusing instead on how best to grant his lover the pleasure he is seeking.

When mere light scratching isn’t enough – as expressed by an irritated mewling sound from the redhead – Sephiroth instead slips lower to trail his teeth over the stomach presented to him, unwilling to draw blood, but glad to familiarize himself with his boyfriend’s body again. He alternates between nips and licks, never quite breaking skin, while listening intently to the other’s moans to find the perfect ratio that will fulfil his lover’s desires for roughness as well as his own wish not to seriously hurt his love.

It is a precarious balance.

Genesis tangles his hands in Sephiroth’ silver strands as the latter unlatches his pants and helps him shimmy out of them, but then uses his grip to drag the General up again before he can pay the leaking erection below any attention.

Changing plans, Sephiroth reaches over to the bedside drawer, from where he grabs a half-full bottle of lube, before hovering with his fingers indecisively over the condoms. “Did they-“

“Yes, yes, I’m clean. Bloody get on with it already.” He realizes with a curious twinge that these are the first words the elder has spoken since entering Sephiroth’ apartment.

He pops the cap of the lube open, willing himself to ignore the way Genesis flinches briefly at the noise. Next, he coats his fingers liberally in the viscous liquid before tossing the closed bottle on the bedspread and trailing his hand down to Genesis’ entrance. The General keeps his gaze firmly fixed on his lover’s glowing eyes, observing every tiny twitch of muscle in search for discomfort while beginning to circle that tight ring of muscles and slipping in a digit carefully.

Cyan eyes narrow angrily. Too carefully, apparently.

“Don’t you dare fucking pamper me. Don’t you fucking dare.”

As though to stress his point, Genesis reaches down himself between his spread legs to seize Sephiroth’ hand in a bruising, punishing grip, pushing him in further. The younger obliges grudgingly, adding a second and third finger quicker than he would have preferred. Apparently somewhat satisfied, the redhead falls back into the pillows again, arching his neck and uttering a low growl in the back of his throat while Sephiroth thrusts inside him with his fingers.

It doesn’t take long before Genesis grows restless again and grapples at the silver-haired man’s sleeping pants in a clear sign of what he wants next. Sephiroth hisses when cold hands close around his heated member, pulling it out of his pants and giving it a quick, negligent coating of lube from the bottle.

He removes his slick fingers and lines himself up instead, swallowing the “Are you sure?” that’s burning in his throat. He knows these words will be ill-received in that moment.

What he doesn’t expect is for Genesis to suddenly wrap his arms around his shoulders, pulling the Silver General close. Sephiroth can feel his lover’s heartbeat drumming against his own chest and his puffy breath hot against his ear as he leans in, pressed cheek-to-cheek.

“Show me, Sephiroth.” His voice is rough and, if Sephiroth listens closely, laced with the slightest tinge of hysteria. “Show me why I should still trust in humanity.”

Feeling tears burn behind his eyes and closing them in sorrow, Sephiroth pushes in, seating himself with one long, single thrust.

He feels the air leave Genesis’ lungs beneath him as he adjusts to being filled again after such a long time. The silverette is willing to give him all the time he needs despite the way his member _aches_ inside that tight channel, but sooner than is likely healthy for him his lover lifts his legs to dig the heels of his feet into Sephiroth back, urging him to get going.

He tries a slow rhythm at first, ever aware that the other isn’t used to this anymore, but Genesis will have none of it. He arches up into his thrusts, as much as the restricted position between his lover and the bedsheets allows, and slips his fingers between the tatters of Sephiroth’ sleep shirt to bury blunt nails in his back.

“Goddess be damned, I’m not made of glass. Fucking _move_ , Sephiroth!”

Despite every fiber of his being straining against the order, the man in question picks up his pace, taking the redhead hard. He feels his member slide in and out of that wet tightness, withdrawing until just the tip remains, before slamming back in with force. One of his hands braces on the mattress beside his lover while the other holds his hips steady as he drives into him. Genesis’ own length has started dripping precome onto his uncovered stomach, but Sephiroth finds he can gain little to no pleasure from this fast, frenzied coupling, from the knowledge that he must be hurting his lover, even if he is desperately asking for it.

When he feels one of Genesis’ legs slipping from its position around his waist back to the sheets, accompanied by a grunt slightly too pained to be derived from arousal, Sephiroth slows down before coming to a stuttering halt. While not bad enough to warrant wearing a cast, the General knows his lover’s leg must still be tender after that particular medical procedure, as proven by this involuntary motion. Sephiroth feels he is just about done with this.

An irritated growl below him expresses the redhead’s frustration. “What now?! Why in the name of the Goddess did you stop?” He wriggles around a little, trying to get the other to start moving again. “Just ignore that good-for-nothing appendage, it’s not important,” he hisses.

Sephiroth sits up slightly, still seated within his boyfriend, to better look him in the eye. Somehow, the more agitated Genesis becomes, the easier it is for him to grow calm, fortified he is doing the right thing. He replies with a single word, “No.”

“What do you mean, _no_?! What the hell does my leg have to do with you fucking me? …Or is this whole thing not romantical enough for you, Mister High-and-Mighty?” Genesis grinds out between clenched teeth. He reaches up a hand to curl around Sephiroth’ neck, dragging him down for a harsh kiss that is really nothing more than a bruising press of lips against lips, but the silverette remains unresponsive, keeping his eyes opened.

With a frustrated yell, Genesis lets his hand drop away again to punch the sheets next to them. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Am I suddenly not good enough for you anymore, huh? Is that it? Just because some freaks got their hands all over me, I’m this broken piece of garbage that you can just throw away at a whim? Fucking hell! That’s all I still am now, isn’t it? Broken goods, nothing but a monster you can send off to kill other monsters, to get the job done. Right?! Who would want to fuck a monster?!”

Genesis voice rises in volume, until he is very nearly screaming at the end. Sephiroth doubts the other is even aware of the tears trailing down his cheeks in little rivulets. His heart twists in anguish for his lover, for knowing he has gone through terrible things that cannot be undone, cannot be forgotten. Not just the torture at the hands of the rebel group, no. Sephiroth knows his frequent dispatchments to Wutai, the pure, mindless killing, drawing together and crushing the last bit of resistance of the once free continent without mercy has been pulling heavily at the Commander’s conscience.

When it seems that Genesis, panting heavily, has run out of steam for a moment, Sephiroth lifts a hand to gently wipe away the little droplets from his lover’s cheeks. “Not like this,” he breathes quietly, once again feeling that burn behind his own eyes. “Never like this.”

The redhead’s eyes widen momentarily, before he brusquely shoves at the hand, turning his head away. “Fuck you, they’re angry tears!”

“Even so.”

A shaky sigh, and a desperate plea. “Can’t you just… just keep moving before I notice what a fucking bad idea this is?”

Sephiroth just shakes his head quietly, slipping his hand into Genesis’ long, red mane to caress it soothingly. The elder keeps his gaze fixed on the nightstand, but slowly, the tension seems to bleed out of him.

He takes in another unsteady breath before closing his eyes, eyebrows knit in a distraught frown. His voice is nearly inaudible when he whispers, “Am I… a monster, Seph?”

Deep inside, something shatters and breaks at the lost tone of his boyfriend.

With the utmost gentleness, Sephiroth slips a hand beneath his lover’s face to turn it back in his direction, distributing his weight on his elbows so he can cradle that chiseled, sorrowed face with both hands. Genesis looks up to him with the eyes of a drowning man, looking for a piece of driftwood, or some rope, to pull him out of these currents.

The silverette’s thumbs trace over damp cheekbones as he finally conveys the words he should have said right at the beginning. “Listen closely, Genesis. You are not, never were and never will be, a monster. You are a beautiful, precious human being with _so_ much kindness in your heart, who showed me the way out of the dark path I was walking. You are my light, Genesis, and I cannot bear to see you hurt. No matter what anyone else tells you, what you did in the name of ShinRa does not change who you are.” A soft, tender kiss is pressed to the elder’s lips, just a chaste peck. “I love you.”

At those last words, Genesis eyebrows twist with a pained expression. He soaks up his words like rain, like a flower in the desert, desperate eyes searching his for the truth he knows will be reflected in them. Shaky hands reach up to cover the ones on his face, and a hitched breath escapes the redhead’s throat. “Sephiroth…”

With that, Genesis lets lose. The waterworks start; uncontrollably, sobs are ripped from him while fresh tears start streaming down his face. Sephiroth finds himself glad to already be in the most intimate embrace he can offer, as connected with the other as can be. He bends down to press his nose into the crook behind his lover’s ear, where his scent is strongest, while placing another soft kiss against his jaw. He moves inside Genesis once, twice more with as much gentleness as he can muster, as though his cautious touch can wipe away the memory of their earlier encounter, before slipping out. His member has already softened at the sight of his love’s distress.

Carefully, he lies on his side and slips his arms around the other’s waist to gather him close; presses the broken man to his chest in a tight embrace, pretending that it can keep him together, make him whole again. Genesis buries his face beneath Sephiroth’ chin and latches on tight with his hands as though wanting to meld with the younger man. Neither seems willing to leave an inch of space between them.

“Goddess, I’m so sorry. I thought… I thought I was never going to see you again. None of you.” The words were muffled against Sephiroth’ neck.

The silverette makes soft, crooning noises in the back of the throat that he has often seen Genesis use on Cloud when the blonde was particularly upset.

“I tried to come home, I really did. I tried so _hard_. But they-- …All that time, all I could see was your faces, my loves… The physical pain I could deal with, but when I thought of never coming back here, of-- of never feeling your touch again, never seeing your smile—“ He breaks off with a painful hiccup.

Sephiroth starts tracing lazy circles into Genesis’ back, beneath the fabric of his bunched-up shirt. Words were never his forte, so he simply holds the other and lets him cry, in the hopes that his mere presence will be enough to calm him.

He doesn’t keep track of the time, for once, but after a while Sephiroth notices his lover’s sobs grow quieter, his shaking lessening.

He starts to feel slightly drowsy. It must be getting late, and Genesis is a warm, steady weight in his arms. It feels unbelievably good to know the other is safe again.

The redhead finally gives a small sigh before extricating himself a little, just enough so he can lift his face to Sephiroth’. His eyes are bloodshot and deeply shadowed, cheekbones still painfully prominent, but there is a hesitant smile on his face. The silverette returns it.

“Thank you.”

Genesis tilts his head and leans in until his damp lips brush against those of Sephiroth. They take their time, simply enjoying the feel of this intimate touch and the other’s close presence, exploring how the bends and dips of their lips fit against one another. The blue and green glows in the shadows around them vanish as they both close their eyes to better concentrate on other senses.

Sephiroth feels the redhead’s moist tongue softly probing for entrance and willingly grants it. For a little while, they lick soft kisses into each other’s mouths, re-familiarizing themselves with the unique taste of their lover. There is no hurry.

With time, the motions of Genesis’ tongue grow more heated. Sephiroth can feel his hand trailing down his shoulder in curious little patterns before coming to rest at his hips, at the same time as one of Genesis’ legs slips between his. He gives a soft, content growl at the stimulation to his groin.

“Are you sure?” he questions, opening his eyes again to scrutinize the other’s face carefully.

Another insisting press into his hips. “Yes.”

His hand trails lower on Genesis’ back, but stays hesitant. “Did I hurt you? Are you sore? I’m sorr-“

“Shh.” His lover’s free hand flattens against his lips, halting the apology in its tracks. “Do not apologize for something I forced you to do. That was my fault alone.” Once Sephiroth relaxes (though still disagreeing with the shift in accountability), those fingers fall away, at the same time as Genesis’ other hand gently encircles the General’s and draws it to Genesis’ member, lying half-hard between his legs. “You are not going to break me.”

Though still hesitant at first, Sephiroth soon realizes this might be just what he needs right now – to give some gentle pleasure to his lover, let him forget his worries for just a moment in a way that they can both agree on. He lets his fingers slide up and down the length in a loose fist, unhurried but firm when reaching the tip.

So caught up is he in his ministrations that the General actually gives a small start when he feels Genesis’ fingers wrap around his own length. He looks up to see Genesis give him a lazy smile.

“You don’t have to…”

“Let me.”

And so they slip back into silence, enjoying each other’s attention leisurely. Genesis knows just how to touch him, where to squeeze and stroke and scrape him delicately, how to make pleasure pool steadily in his belly. And judging by the content purring noises he coaxes out of his lover, Sephiroth isn’t doing quite such a bad job either. Both have one hand on the other’s arousal, while giving soft caresses to faces and bare skin with the other.

Sephiroth presses his forehead against that of his partner when he feels the sweet ache in his groin starting to grow. He comes with his eyes closed and a deep groan, Genesis close behind, his lips pressing open-mouthed butterfly kisses all over that perfect face. And for a moment, he feels like nothing can ever hurt them again.

They come down from their high sharing breaths and intertwined intimately, legs tangled. Fingers trail over faces gently, over the dip of a nose and the curve of a brow, down the temple to the hollow of a cheek, to slip beneath a firm jawbone.

For now, no words are needed.

Tomorrow, perhaps, they will call the others over; there will be words, and apologies, and the spoiling of a certain blonde, before everyone will pile onto the too-small bed and envelope a slightly teary-eyed ginger First in a smothering hug to ensure everyone that their love truly is back safe and healthy in their arms. And beyond that, a long and rough, but certainly never lonely, road to normalcy and healing.

But for now, the two lovers simply revel in each other’s presence.

 

**The end.**

**Author's Note:**

> ...I just really like whump, okay?


End file.
